


friends in uncanny places

by slimeblocks



Series: ghosts in your home [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Allusion to Character Death, Anxiety Attacks, Blood and Injury, Character Study, Friendship, Gen, Ghosts, Implied Violence, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Other, Past Character Death, thats a lot of ansgt tags its not even that angst, they r just homies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:55:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28400496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slimeblocks/pseuds/slimeblocks
Summary: punz doesn't mean to run from his past. it's hard not to, when you don't remember anything.ghost!punz au
Relationships: Luke | Punz & Wilbur Soot, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: ghosts in your home [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080035
Comments: 1
Kudos: 62





	friends in uncanny places

**Author's Note:**

> HELLOO im back LOL 
> 
> i rlly enjoyed writing this one, hope u guys enjoy!
> 
> *blows a kiss to the sky* this ones for u punztwt
> 
> also! decapitated!punz idea goes to @noctspam / @noctnis on twitter! ghost!punz as a whole belongs to @undeadegirl !! love u guys <33

there’s not much that punz can remember. 

he comes to this realisation as he’s floating around and watching someone, someone named sam, polish a sword. sam makes him feel safe, despite not remembering too much about him (he knows they were good friends, knows that he cared deeply about him, can feel the love he once had for him deep in his chest when sam cackles at one of his jokes), and he’d taken to hanging around him pretty consistently since waking up on the floor of some kind of large castle, one long week ago.

he’s not entirely _bothered_ by the fact that he can’t remember anything (he’s gotten enough from sam, and his own limited memory, and the other people he’s met while milling around on his own by the chunk of prime path near his old home, touching things and trying to remember literally anything about them, about who he used to be), it’s more so the fact that when he looked at certain things, a dark feeling would settle into his gut, and he would never know _why_. 

like with dream, a green clad and masked man he’d met while looking for sam. he’d thought dream _was sam_ , at first, because their hair colors were somewhat similar, and really, everyone looked the same when they wore their netherite armor, but when dream had turned around to look at punz and see where the noise was coming from, punz had been doused with cold fear and the need to _run_.

so he had. 

he’d sped away from dream as fast as he could, as far as he could get until he collapsed tiredly on the floor of his old house, curled up in his bee farm until sam found him. he couldn’t explain why he’d been so out of breath (he hadn’t been able to catch it again, for some reason, hyperventilating until one of his bees came and laid on him, buzzing softly until he was somewhat able to breathe), but sam just shook his head, inviting punz to lay on his lap until he felt better.

shaking himself from the memory, punz looks back at sam, smiling faintly at the sight of his friend sitting comfortably in front of the grindstone, examining his newly polished netherite sword. 

the sword.

punz’s eyes drifted to the object, the swirling black and silver making him feel breathless, and lightheaded, like he’d been when he first saw dream. it unsettled him. the way the glow of the torchlight reflected off of it, and the shine of familiar enchantments encasing it in a hard shell (he can see the beautifully dangerous edges of max sharpness, the knit texture of mending and the strongest chains of unbreaking if he squints). they make him nervous, and a darker feeling settles in his gut, making his stomach turn and filling punz with an intense feeling of guilt.

sam shifts, lifting the sword, and punz startles. sam turns to him, and smiles, showcasing the sword to him and chattering away about something that punz knows he won’t remember. punz smiles back uneasily, and tries to listen anyway, the dark feeling fading, but still lingering. he wonders if it’s a good thing or a bad one. 

he’s not sure which is worse.

\--

he meets wilbur a few days after the sword incident.

wilbur, (ghostbur. he doesn’t like being called wilbur. punz doesn’t really understand why, but respects him. maybe he should think of a cool name like that) is a ghost, like him, and seems to be very excited to know that there’s another ghost milling around the area, even if the thought is a little morbid. ghostbur is excitable, and kindhearted, and hands him a lot of blue dye, for some reason, and punz likes him well enough. they quickly become friends (when punz tells sam this, sam’s face flashes for a second, with something sad and remorseful before he puts on a smile, and punz is curious but doesn’t press) and soon they’re attached at the hip. ghostbur gives him a tour of the world, tells him what he knows, and in return, punz fills in gaps of his limited memory with his own, and punz decides that he likes seeing ghostbur smile.

it helps lessen the twisted ball of guilt and unsettled feelings in his gut. 

a few weeks after their initial meeting, ghostbur asks him to come with him to the sewers, a place that apparently tommy (he doesn’t remember tommy, but the name makes him think of flashes of blonde hair, a loud, boisterous laugh, and carrots, oddly) had shown him a few days prior. agreeing, punz meets with him at the entrance to the sewers tommy had shown him, and punz pushes away the anxiety that’s building in him.

 _you shouldn’t be here_ , a voice whispers in his head. _there’s something here that you don’t need to see._

he considers listening to the voice.

\--

punz had never been one to listen to voices of authority.

he follows ghostbur through the sewers, eyes sweeping over the dirty and graffitied walls. it doesn’t smell too bad, surprisingly, but punz had found that after he’d died that his sense of smell and taste had been incredibly dulled.

(the scar on his neck, a clean cut running all the way around his dulled skin, tells a story, in a small, tinny voice in the back of his head. he ignores that voice too.)

they pass by what seem to be many landmarks from a past era of the land; the intricate maze of pipes containing old homes and scattered landmarks that seemed to have gone untouched by anyone except time. there’s graffiti on the walls of the sewers, too, in handwriting that he vaguely recognises but cannot place. his favorite, though, is the cluster of names written on a wall close to what ghostbur says is “george’s” old home, in various colors of spray paint. he doesn’t know who exactly george is, but his name is there, in a bright blue, along with more names he doesn’t recognise, and his own name, in a soft yellow. 

he stands there for a good few minutes, fingers barely touching the wall and tracing the large letters before ghostbur pulls him away.

an hour into their exploration, punz finds himself idly waiting by an opening in the sewers walls, patiently waiting as ghostbur explores it. 

(punz would’ve gone in with him, too, but had been afraid of the dark ever since he woke up. he’s glad that he doesn’t need to sleep, because the dreams of someone standing over him with a glowing purple axe tight in their grip, silhouetted in the moonlight that’s shining through large windows, is not a pleasant memory in the slightest.)

“punz!” ghostbur calls excitedly. “i found something! come look!”

punz doesn’t respond at first, hesitant at the thought of being in a dark space on his own. after a few beats of silence, ghostbur makes a noise of recognition and punz can hear him stumbling back towards the opening. he pokes his head out, brown hair flopping over his eyes, and grins at punz. 

“i set down torches in the little pathway, but i’ll walk with you too! just in case.” ghostbur says decisively. he sticks a hand out, and punz smiles, taking it and letting ghostbur pull him into the little opening.

they walk together down the path, ghostbur idly filling the silence as he always does and pulling punz along. soon enough, they’re in the room ghostbur’s found, and ghostbur lets go of his hand to stand in the middle of it, arms out with a large grin.

“ta da!” he exclaims, drawing out the second “a”. “isn’t this just so cool?!”

he turns away from punz, talking excitedly about the contents of the room, running his hands over empty chests and marvelling at the polished blackstone bricks. the lanterns in the room have dimmed from countless hours of being lit, casting large shadows over the room.

punz suddenly can’t breathe. 

a broken sword lays on the floor of the room, and ghostbur gasps excitedly, picking up the weapon and brandishing it towards punz. 

“look!” he chuckled, swiping it playfully before holding it gingerly in his hands, turning it over. “i wonder who this belonged to.”

the image triggers something in punz’s mind, and suddenly, he’s standing on the other side of the room, where ghostbur is, alive and decked out in full netherite, holding an axe. ghostbur (is it wilbur now, since he’s alive?) is standing across from him, back to him as he attacks someone with a white bandana, also decked in netherite armor, holding an axe. there’s commotion going on around him, but he’s focused on ghostbur, and everything else blurred, like he is the only thing that matters in the memory.

punz watches himself strike ghostbur down with no hesitation, barely flinching at the feeling of blood on his face. memory ghostbur’s sword clatters to the ground, and breaks, laying uselessly next to its wielder as he dies.

he’s jolted back to reality when ghostbur (wilbur? he doesn’t know anymore) yells (not unlike in the memory) as a mouse darts out from behind a chest. 

punz takes in a deep breath, and shudders out a sigh.

so that’s why swords and ghostbur gave him the same, heavy feeling.

turning to ghostbur, he watches as no recognition at the room itself or punz’s discomfort flashes in his grey eyes, and looks down at his shoes as ghostbur continues to theorise and wonder aloud about what might’ve happened there. they leave soon after, and punz claims he has to go speak to sam before leaving ghostbur in the middle of one of the intricate hallways of the sewer system, ignoring the confused shouts of ghostbur’s as he runs, and the pang in his chest with every desperate, sad call of his name. he runs away from his memories, from his guilt, from his past-

he doesn’t look back.

when ghostbur comes to him a few days later, all smiles, and asks him about the tiny basket of honeycomb and honey jars wrapped neatly with blue tissue paper and light blue ribbon, punz smiles sadly, draws him into a hug, and sighs wetly against his shoulder with a sniffle.

“s’nothing.” he mumbles into the yellow fabric of ghostbur’s sweater. “just felt like giving you something. for being a good friend.”

ghostbur hums, squeezing punz gently, and leans into the touch, pressing his mouth against sandy hair. they are quiet, revelling in the first proper hug either of them have had in a long time. it feels like warmth, despite the cold particles that come with being a ghost swirling around them, and punz sags against ghostbur, still trying not to cry.

“i forgive you, punz.” he murmurs, after a few moments. “it’s okay. i forgive you.”

punz could only assume that ghostbur had pretended he didn’t feel punz’s hands tighten against his back, and that he didn’t mind as punz began to sob against his shoulder, rubbing soft circles into his back as punz choked out apologies, whispering comforting words into his hair as punz lets the sorrow and pain and weight of what he’d done out onto his sweater.

(he doesn't know how ghostbur knew what he was trying to say, what he was apologising for. he didn't know if he knew in the first place. he just knows that he’d do anything in his power to make it up to him. even if it meant sitting in that room over, and over, and over again.)


End file.
